Darkness of Rage, the Lament of Angels
by Niccolo Dante de Remas
Summary: On the fields of Armageddon the Imperium struggles against the greenskin menace. But all is not lost as the Angels of Death arrive to deliver the Emperor's wrath. Amongst them are the Flesh Tearers, scions of Sanguinius whose savagery matches the Orks' own. Theirs is a battle on two fronts, one against the enemy, the other is against the very rage within them.
1. Chapter 1

**The Darkness of Rage, the Lament of Angels**

Armageddon.

In ancient human mythology it was the End of Days, when the world would end in smoke and fire.

Armageddon the planet was not that much different to the world described in those ancient myths. It was a planet of ash and the skies were always filled with great clouds of chemical smog billowing forth from the chimneys of massive foundries and forges which churned out weapons and equipment to be shipped across the length and breadth of the Imperium of Man.

The rivers were filled with all manner of pollutants and waste-chemicals having long since become unsafe to even tread in, let alone to bathe in or to drink from, the results of which would be most gruesome indeed. The great hive cities, the mega-metropolises that were home to billions of citizens were clogged and overpopulated, even the nobles rich and powerful as the were lived in condition most of their peers from offworld would sneer at.

Armageddon was a long dead world kept alive by a proverbial life support machine, despite the many invasions from alien foes and far worse besides in its long history of Imperial settlement. Yet the Imperium had kept its iron grip on Armageddon for ten millennia, since it had been first settled when the Emperor had walked amongst his people.

But the greenskins, the savage Orks who were like a plague of vermin throughout the galaxy had firmly set their beady red eyes upon this polluted lump of rock. Coming in their millions to plunder Armageddon, led by a monstrous warlord called Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka. Roks, the mobile asteroid ships of the greenskin horde descended upon Armageddon's barren soil, eager to pillage and the Imperium had responded in force.

Whole Chapters of the mighty Adeptus Astartes Space Marines had been called upon to fight in Armageddon's defence as well as the forces of the Imperial Guard and even the secretive Inquisitin. The might of the Imperium, led by heroes such as the legendary Lord Commander Dante, Chapter Master Tu'shan, Commissar Sebastian Yarrick and Princeps Kurtiz Mannheim had denied the Orks in a brutal war that had brought utter ruin to Armageddon the process.

Hives had been shattered and burned, the great factories and foundries had been broken and billions had died but the Ork menace had been defeated, though the leader, Warboss Ghazghkull had escaped with vengeance on his mind.

In the wake of the invasion, dubbed the Second War for Armageddon, the first being a conflict between the Imperium and the dread forces of Chaos some centuries ago, the long arduous process of repair had begun. The Hive cities had been rebuilt, the factories repaired and slowly Armageddon had regained some of its former power and glory.

By the time Ghazghkull invaded Armageddon, fifty years to the day of his first invasion, all but the most grievous of destruction had been repaired but within a matter of weeks all the good work done was utterly reversed. Such was the fury of the greenskin invaders the populace of Armageddon slowly began to wonder if the God-Emperor had forsaken them and this was Armageddon, the End of Days for them and all upon the planet's surface.

Then like the Angels of Death they were famed to be the Space Marines returned bringing fiery retribution, the wrath of the Emperor incarnate. Their armours were painted every colour under the sun and many of them were the stuff of legend throughout the Imperium.

The Salamanders, the fiery warriors of Nocturne and the noble Blood Angels of Baal who had fought in the Second War, returned to defend Armageddon once more, alongside other, equally as renowned Chapters such as the zealous Black Templars, the ruthless Marines Malevolent and the ferocious Space Wolves and the fighting upon the blighted surface was furious as the greatest war Armageddon had ever experienced was played out.

In particular, deep with the Fire Wastes, the Ork Warboss Rukglum, one of Ghazghkull's prime lieutenants led a devastating campaign against the many settlements dotted about the wastes. Thousands of men, women and children were killed by his relentless assault, and the fiery devastation his artillery brought to bear.

In response the people of the Fire Wastes formed a rabble militia to fight the Orks, ostensibly under the control of the Departmento Munitorum, but miners and factory workers proved little good against the fury and savage attacks of the greenskin. Several crushing defeats were meted out in short order until eventually Rukglum and his forces overran Gaius Point, the only major township in the Wastes besides Fire Harbour, which for the moment was still in Imperial hands.

With the invasion of Gaius Point the Imperial defences in the Fire Wastes were thrown into utter disarray and many commanders began to fear that it was only a matter of time before they were overrun completely. With the loss of the Fire Wastes, the Orks would utterly devastate the Imperial industrial operations, the mines, factories and refineries vital to the war effort.

The Defenders of Armageddon responded quickly to this threat.

Clad in their pristine white armour, the Sisters of Battle of the Order of the Argent Shroud deployed four Commanderies to the Fire Wastes to fight alongside the brave but beleagured militia and fuelled by faith and a grim determination to save the Emperor's subjects the battle sisters drew a line in the ash covered ground. Despite heavy bombardment and even heavier assaults from Rukglum's horde the Imperial line, bolstered further by Guardsmen of the Armageddon XXVII Steel Legion did not falter.

Then came the true champions of Mankind, descending to the Fire Wastes in Thunderhawk gunships the Space Marines of the Flesh Tearers came not to hold the line, but to annihilate the foe. A full five companies, five hundred warriors, came to aid the defenders and in a series of ferocious and bloody counter-attacks the Flesh Tearers repulsed the Orks and gave the Battle-Sisters and their militia allies some respite from the fires of war, if only for a moment.

In the forward command post at Korulaab township, the commanders of the three Imperial elements met at last to plan the next step, eager to make use of the brief halt to the greenskin advance.

First to arrive was Nikole Carmina, Canoness Superior of the Order of the Argent Shroud, clad in her suit of white power armour, the once pristine plates stained by ash, mud and blood and scarred by many close calls on the field of battle. Gold trim and holy symbols were dulled and tarnished by dirt but she still looked every bit the zealous battle-sister she was. At her side stood the four Canoness Commanders of the four Commanderies, equally as battered and bruised as their revered leader.

Next to arrive was Gregor Hatraft, Commandant of the Gaius Point Militia, a short and stocky man whose skin was forever marked by dust from years of working in the mines. A mane of thinning white hair atop his head he looked far from the gallant militia commander one would expect. But beneath the bohemian exterior was a capable leader for despite no prior military experience he had organised a militia out of factory workers and miners, armed them and led them with a skill and courage that would have put the some officers of the Imperial Guard to shame.

With him were his band captains, nine in total each in charge of their own militia band and all of them, like Hatraft himself had been ordinary citizens before the War. Now they were soldiers and each man and woman had proved their mettle to earn their rank, many bore scars and dressed wounds as testament to that fact.

Last to arrive in the cramped strategium of the forward command was a huge figure in a suit of dark crimson and black power armour, easily eight feet tall and probably more. His head was shaven and his eyes were filled with a murderous rage that seemed to be barely in check, coupled with a great sorrow. Radiating hostility in waves both the Sisters of Battle, and the hardened Militia fighters who had faced down hulking Orks without pause felt uneasy around the new arrival.

Five equally intimidating warriors accompanied him, four in armour like his and another in armour of jet black with a helm fashioned in the image of a skull. The lead warrior was Gabriel Seth, Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers.

'I'm glad you could join us at last Master Seth.' said Canoness Carmina.

Seth grunted. 'You call us away from the frontline. Be brief about it Canoness.'

Carmina's scowl face told all what she thought of Seth's gruff manner.

'Very well,' said Carmina, nodding a signal to the serf in charge of the holo-projector table. 'Our efforts to hold back the Ork tide have been somewhat effective and the losses to the greenskins have been high.'

The holographic projector mounted into the floor began to emit a three-dimensional overview of the Fire Waste theatre of battle, showing the settlement of Gaius Point highlighted in green and the Imperial defences and the town of Korulaab in blue. Green arrows then appeared and shot out from holographic Gaius Point and showed the lines of the Ork advance towards the Imperial defences. This was then followed soon after by a series of red arrows that represented the Flesh Tearers which ran headfirst into the approaching green arrows and made them disappear.

'However orbital sensoria have detected great movement in Ork forces that corroborates with Xenos Tactica predictions that the greenskin warlord Ghazghkull greatly desires the Fire Wastes and its resources to fuel his war effort. In response he has sent many more warriors to join those already here,' Carmina said and in response the map displayed several more large green arrows converging on Gaius Point. 'We have also confirmed that Warboss Rukglum has moved his great artillery pieces forward to within the captured settlement and will commence heavy bombardment as soon as the ammunition arrives.'

Hatraft shook his head and cursed. 'More Orks at Gaius point. How much more can our town suffer.'

Carmina frowned. 'We all must endure great hardship Commander Hatraft. It is that which tests the bonds of faith and our loyalty to the Emperor.'

Hatraft grumbled. 'Yes, quite. Though you try saying that when Orks are shitting in your home and destroying your livelihood.'

'Is there any point to this Canoness Commander? You could have informed us of this whilst on the frontline.' Seth growled and Hatraft and his captains took a wary step backwards, intimated by the Flesh Tearer's anger. The Battle-Sisters whether they experienced similar trepidation or not merely looked on seemingly unfazed.

'Master Seth, according to the calculations from several lexmechanics and tactical savants the numbers we will soon be facing accompanied with the heavy artillery the Orks will be able to deploy will lead to our defeat with a 87% certainty.'

'The odds are that bad! Then what do you propose Revered-Canoness?' said Hatraft.

'All logical strategies dictate we pull back and reconstruct our defences at Fire Harbour.' sighed Carmina.

The weight of such an action lingered in the air. To retreat to Fire Harbour would be to give up almost the entirety of the Fire Wastes to the enemy, to make months of struggle completely redundant and the cost in lives all but meaningless.

'If you wish to retreat then you do so without the Flesh Tearers.' announced Seth.

'Chapter Master, I have great respect for the prowess of the Astartes but even the Chosen of the Emperor could not stand against such numbers. Your lives would be wasted for a moment of defiance.' said Carmina. 'I beg of you to pull back with us to Fire Harbour and not throw your life and that of your brothers away pointlessly. We stand a chance if we stand at Fire Harbour.'

Seth seemed unmoved by her plea and simply stared ahead with his eyes of murderous rage and sorrow.

'Excuse me Canoness but the militia won't retreat either,' Hatraft said with no small amount iron in his voice. 'We abandoned Gaius Point and left it to the enemy but we won't give any more ground willingly to the greenskin bastards.'

His band captains all seemed to agree with his decision and backed him up with nods and murmurs of assent.

Carmina hung her head. 'We cannot hold this position,' she repeated emphatically. 'The Adepta Sororitas run from no enemy but we know the difference between a pointless sacrifice and a worthwhile one.'

'Spoken like a coward.' Seth sneered. In response one of Carmina's Canoness Commanders stepped forward and pointed a gauntlet sheathed finger at the mighty Flesh Tearer.

'Show the Canoness Superior respect Astartes savage! She thinks of more than the next battle and the spilling of blood. She thinks of the entire war effort in a way your barbaric mind could never do!' roared the Canoness Commander with great anger.

Carmina turned to her subordinate.

'Sister Valois stand down immediately and know your place!' she hissed.

Seth grinned. 'It seems you are unable to keep your bitches on a leash.'

The Flesh Tearers officers stood behind him laughed, their chuckles sounded cold with a mechanical tinge through the vox-grilles of their black helms.

'Careful, Seth. I will tolerate no insults of my battle-sisters as I am sure you would not tolerate insults levied against your battle-brothers.' said Carmina.

'Try insulting a Flesh Tearer, Canoness Superior. Often it is the last thing that person will do.' it was one of Seth's officers who spoke and Seth made no effort to chastise him.

'That was a threat.' said Canoness Valois and the other Canoness Commanders looked ready to jump into the argument.

Before any more words could be exchanged the black armoured Astartes with the skull helm, Carmina recognised him as one of their Chaplains, stepped in between his fellow Flesh Tearers and the Argent Shroud commanders, holding up his open palms in gesture of calm.

'We have enough enemies to deal with without turning on each other.' he said. 'Purge your hearts of hatred and anger and focus on the matter at hand. Save these emotions for the greenskins.'

The Flesh Tearers seemed becalmed by the words of their Chaplain and they stepped back and held their tongues, the air of hostility around them ever so slightly dissipating. Seth nodded.

'You are right Carnarvon.' said Seth.

'Wise words Brother-Chaplain.' said Carmina.

Stood with his band captains, the Militia Commandant felt out of place when stood next to the two warrior orders and after several moments of silence in the command post, only broken by the hum of the holo-projector Hatraft cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention.

All eyes focused upon him and Hatraft felt a little intimated.

'If we are going to remain here, surely we can formulate some kind of plan. There must be something we can do to gain a victory here?' he said.

Carmina sighed. 'There is not commandant or else we would have thought of it. The Sisters of the Argent Shroud shall remain here with you as is the Emperor's will it seems but there will be no victory here, only death and defeat in the end.'

Seth's grinned evilly and Hatraft prayed to the God-Emperor on Terra that he didn't see the Chapter Master do it too often, for it was terrible and horrific to behold, which he honestly didn't think was possible a mere expression.

'We will get you your victory, commandant. All I ask is that your militia and the Battle-Sisters hold the line.' he said and without another word Seth turned around and left the command post, his warrior-officers close behind.

Left in the chamber the Canoness Superior looked to the Militia Commandant and both exchanged a glance of insecurity.

Neither had any idea of what the Flesh Tearers planned but if their reputation and their ruthless actions in the last few month were anything to go by then it was sure to be a bloody affair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Days Later**

Altan, Captain of the 3rd Company Flesh Tearers felt the g-force of the rapid descent hit him as the Drop Pod punched through the clouds of pollutants and chemical smoke. His face obscured by his helm he concentrated on the altimeter on his optical display as it swiftly counted down. With every thousand feet the pod travelled towards the ground the more he felt the urge for battle sing within his soul.

Drop Pod _Wrathful Deliverance_ was but one of two dozen that screamed towards the ground, their red and black hulls scorched by the heat of re-entry. Within the grav-harness on his conveyance Altan looked about the interior at the battle-brethren of his command squad and he could sense their readiness too, for like him the urge for war and destruction, for killing and bloodletting was strong and it ultimately defined the Chapter as a whole.

It was the Curse of Sanguinius, the Primarch and Genetic-Father of the Blood Angels and through them the Flesh Tearers and though it was a great strength it was a flaw nevertheless.

A flaw more prominent in the Flesh Tearers than any other of the Chapters of Sanguinius' bloodline and the Five Companies that had been deployed to Armageddon, the five hundred battle-brothers of the Flesh Tearers who had followed their Chapter Master to this Ork blighted rock and who now were committed entirely to this offensive were all that was left, the Chapter only at half strength.

Slowly but surely the flaw was killing them off, the Black Rage and Red Thirst overcame them and drove them mad and a Space Marine, forged by ancient geno-surgeries, psycho-conditioning devised by the Emperor at the dawn of the Imperium was already a superhuman killing machine, so one driven mad by bloodlust was a truly dangerous thing to behold.

Even as he dwelt on the curse, Altan felt it call to him from within some deep recess of his soul. It begged him to give in, to allow the legacy of Sanguinius into his mind. He suppressed it with a recitation of the Liturgy of Focus.

Airbrakes auto-deployed with a scream and the sudden decrease in speed jolted the pod violently, enough to kill a mere mortal but to the Flesh Tearers it was as next to nothing. Despite the swift reduction in speed the velocity at which the drop pod travelled was still a terminal one by most standards, standards the warriors of the Adeptus Astartes didn't fall under.

'This is Seth to all Flesh Tearers. Expect fierce resistance immediately. The xenos are waiting for us, they know we come so show them your fury and let them feel them feel the edge of your blade!' the voice of the Chapter Master snarled over the vox and as one, all five-hundred Flesh Tearers answered their Chapter Master's call with a roar of approval.

Seth was a warrior first and foremost, his skill with a blade and his prowess in battle legendary amongst the Sons of Sanguinius. Beneath the image of a ferocious warrior however was a keen tactical mind, imbued with a cunning and wisdom that caught many off guard.

Certainly when he had briefed the Canoness Superior and the militia commandant the scepticism had been plain on their faces. They had not believed that what Seth proposed could work. The Chapter Master had simply addressed their doubts by simply stating that there was a chance of his strategy succeeding whereas not attempting it would lead to a certain defeat.

Seth's plan was to drop at the tail end of the greenskin reinforcements headed for Gaius Point and charge through them towards the captured settlement itself where the Orks' had made camp. The objective was simple. Retake Gaius Point, kill Rukglum and destroy his artillery.

It was hardly a devious strategy, indeed it was very basic and devoid of any flair, but Seth understood that on occasion there was no need to overcomplicate things, a teaching he had passed on to Altan and his fellow Company commanders.

But ultimately the success of the plan relied on a force capable of matching the Orks for fury and savageness but still capable of discipline and adapting to the flow of battle without losing themselves to it. Such a force only existed in the Space Marines and there were none finer at this kind of assault than the Flesh Tearers.

On the altimeter Altan saw the pod had now fallen below a thousand feet and was moments from landing. With those final few moments before he plunged into war once more Altan smiled within his black helm at the thought of combat. It was time to do the Emperor's work once again. He relished the thought.

Below, the greenskin horde headed straight for Gaius Point. Thousands of Orks marched, accompanied by columns of vehicles and phalanxes of walkers, all chanting and shouting in the guttural Ork tongue.

Crude totem banners were carried high and proudly, displaying that particular clan's allegiance to either Gork or Mork, the greenskin gods and Warlord Ghazghkull who united them in their purpose of killing humans rather than each other. It was a display of savagery at its most brutal. Amongst the orks there was no such thing as civilised behaviour, the strongest thrived and the rest suffered for it. Led by their warlords, the strongest of them all, the Orks were a rabble but they had the numbers and brute strength to be a threat.

Trudging through the mounds of ash and dirt towards Gaius Point the Orks were blissfully unaware of the Drop Pods that plummeted towards them until the tear drop shaped assault craft tore through the toxic mists above. Even then only the more quick-witted, observant Orks noticed and their cries of alarm went unnoticed by the majority of their dim-witted comrades.

Moments later two-dozen Drop Pods landed amongst the greenskins, hitting the ground hard and sending up waves of concussive force that sent those Orks not crushed into a bloody mulch flying in every direction, killing even more. Utter chaos reigned as the Orks struggled to make sense of what was happening.

Hatches opened like the petals of a flower and with a roar as savage and ferocious as any the Orks could conjure the Flesh Tearers charged forth from their Drop Pods, blades and guns at the ready.

Altan ignited the power fields of his lightning claws as he charged from the dark confines of the Drop Pod. Quickly scrambling out of the small bloody walled crater created by the impact, Altan reached the lip as an Ork rose to its stumpy feet ahead of him. The Flesh Tearer hacked it off at the knees and then separated its head from its broad shoulders as it fell with two swift swipes of his claws.

The initial assault by the Flesh Tearers was devastating and many Orks fell in those opening few seconds. It was the epitome of a shock assault landing, the enemy caught completely by surprise, ripped to shreds before they could form an adequate response.

It may have only lasted a few seconds but the confusion amongst the Orks was enough, for the Flesh Tearers to form a beachhead and fully extricate themselves from their drop pods.

Realising what was happening to the rear of their column, Ork chieftains barked orders to their troops, warning them of the Astartes suddenly at their backs. Responding in the only way they knew how, countless Orks roared and charged at the newly arrived Flesh Tearers, determined to kill these new foes.

Not ones to stand and wait when there was killing to be done, the Astartes warriors counter-charged, smashing into the Orks like five hundred hammers. Limbs flew in every direction and greenskin blood filled the air as the Flesh Tearers tore apart their foes with ferocious strikes.

Channelling the dark rage deep within them, each Flesh Tearer moved and struck with deadly force, moving like quicksilver as opposed to the Orks who manoeuvred with an almost simian quality. Their strikes though hard hitting often clumsy and focused on power rather than accuracy.

For all their primal fury the Orks could not match the Flesh Tearers, dying in droves as they were beneath Astartes blades and guns.

3rd Company, Altan's command swiftly organised into a single force within the great melee, cutting paths to each other through the tides of greenskins and all converging on Altan's Command Squad, more specifically Ildur, the 3rd Company's oldest warrior at four centuries who held the banner of the 3rd aloft as a rally point. Those warriors who fought under the banner fought even harder than most determined to not let the sacred relic of their Company fall to enemy hands, and encumbered as he was by the standard, Ildur still wielded his chainaxe with deadly effect.

Altan's claws struck left and right, every strike felling an Ork, sometimes more than one. To his left, Sergeant Falyn another of Altan's Command Squad smashed away at Orks with his giant power maul, the spiked head soon covered in blood and gore. Altan's right was protected by young Brother Hexande, who was armed with two chainswords, wielding them with a skill that could put members of the Veteran 1st Company to shame. The young warrior's speed was a sight to behold, his every movement lighting fast and almost impossible to track.

Suddenly Seth's voice boomed over the vox, the background on the Chapter Master's end filled with the sounds of battle and the throaty roar of a mighty chainblade. 'Seth to Altan. What's your Company status?'

Altan slashed through a string of foes. 'All Sergeants report.' he ordered over the vox as he slew.

As he fought on Altan listened intently as the squad leaders of his company sounded off. To his satisfaction he discovered all were present and accounted for. Furthermore they had taken only two losses since landing, more than acceptable considering the potential bloodbath they had dropped into.

'Lord Seth, this is Captain Altan,' he roared as a particularly large Ork threw itself at him, Altan sliced it apart in a flurry of strikes. '3rd Company is ready and eager!'

It was several moments before he received a reply and in that time Altan accounted for several more enemies. His claws' power fields crackled and hissed at all the blood that covered the talons.

'Acknowledged. Onward to Gaius Point, Captain, in the name of the Emperor!' replied Seth and somewhere over the heads of the sea of Orks Altan heard the 1st Company warriors, spearheading the advance cry, "_For the Lord Sangunius_!"

'For the Lord Sanguinius!' Altan cried, taking up the battlecry with gusto, as did the Flesh Tearers around him until close to five-hundred throats gave voice to the name of their Chapter's fallen gene-father killed in the darkness of the Horus Heresy long ago during the earliest days of the Imperium.

Without hesitation the hundred warriors of the 3rd charged forth after Altan who led the way with his claws flashing left and right as he ran, killing and maiming. Assuming an assault formation the Flesh Tearers, gave no quarter to their foes, for filthy xenos deserved none. Hundred were butchered moment after moment as the Flesh Tearers advanced and the Orks actually seemed to balk at the prospect of facing them, an uncommon sight indeed, amongst the warmongering, savages or the Orkish species.

It was a brutal and bloody charge, as gore-soaked as any in the Flesh Tearers' long history. Chainblades and power weapons were caked in Orkish blood and the armour of the Space Marines was already covered head to toe in blood and gore. This only drove the Flesh Tearers further into their battle-rages and at the spearhead the veteran warriors of the 1st Company element led by Lord Seth caused terrible destruction as their rage coupled with their centuries of experience combined to make each man an engine of dark destruction.

Seth himself, wielding his relic two-handed chainsword, _Blood Reaver_ proved why he had been appointed to his office, and been granted custodianship over that great blade. Each arc of his roaring sword cut down several Orks and as more charged in to replace them Seth merely slew them too. Nothing could even come close to the Flesh Tearers Chapter Master.

But the Veteran 1st were not the foremost element of the Flesh Tearers charge, for even with their experience and almost bottomless reserves of fury, nothing could match that of the thirty black armoured figures ahead of them. Plate marked with red death markings and benedictions to both the Emperor and the Angel, these warriors were the Death Company, those Flesh Tearers lost to the curse of the Black Rage. Led by the skull-masked Chaplain Carnarvon, a rock of calm, cold zeal amongst a sea of anger, the Death Company unleashed a brand of destruction that none of a sane disposition could manage. Though only thirty strong they tore through warbands of hundred within minutes, shrugging off wounds with little effort. Such was the gift and the curse of the Black Rage, to be imbued with a measure of Sanguinius's wrath but to be driven mad by it in the process.

The rest of the Flesh Tearers merely followed in their corpse strewn wake, allowing the Death Company the duty of being the forlorn hope as was tradition and rite. Even with them leading the charge however there were more than enough enemies for the sane brethren to busy themselves with.

Altan's warriors soon joined with those of 4th Company, led by Captain Ezarian, and together the 3rd and 4th butchered their way towards Gaius Point which stood in the not too far distance, the Ork totems now easily recognisable. They were close indeed and this fact only served to drive the Flesh Tearers further into their assault. Altan scythed down several more greenskins, his claws a whirlwind of death. As he slew the Orks, a rage built up deep within him, ancient and powerful. It was the rage every Son of Sanguinius recognised and lived with each day. Much as the captain resisted it he slowly could feel himself slip with each moment.

A roar, bestial and inhuman erupted from Altan's throat and the Orks before him recoiled in primal fear as he dove straight into them, claws bared and butchering. Each strike he landed sent arterial spray across the plates of his Mark VII power armour and the claws themselves, with four long slender blades on each gauntlet were covered in thick, hissing, green blood. The animal urge within Altan to rip off his battlehelm and imbibe the blood upon his gauntlets was almost too strong to resist.

Slashing indiscriminately, alone as he was amongst a horde of Orks, his claws parted limbs and heads from their owners in a dance of death. Every one of Altan's attacks was a single link in a long chain and through the mass of greenskins the 3rd Captain saw the rear of the 1st Company element just ahead. His fury carried him on through the fray, his warriors close behind and eager to catch up with their Captain. With a throaty roar Altan plunged into a mob of Ork boyz and tore them apart as he sought to close with Seth's force. Likewise the 3rd and 4th Companies slaughtered themselves a path through to the 1st Company who welcomed their brothers earnestly with cries of thanks to Sanguinius.

With three Companies linked up, the Ork reinforcements, once such a deadly threat to the Imperial Forces of the Ash Wastes were soon gutted by the fury of the Flesh Tearers. Warlords attempted to lead counter charges against the Space Marines, who met each with pure and violent rage. Fighting side by side, Altan and Seth, epitomised the warrior-spirit of the Chapter, the Ork corpses soon piled high around them. The ground was fast becoming littered with Orks and their body parts as far as the eye could see and eventually the heart of the Orks broke when Seth took the Warboss's head in single combat, felling the mammoth greenskin in three strokes.

What was left of the horde after the Flesh Tearers were finished was a pitiful handful of runts who fled towards Gaius Point, squealing and screaming in terror, fearful of the bloody Angels of Death. It had been three hours since landing upon the ash of Armageddon.

Marching onwards, the Flesh Tearers shook their weapons clean of Orkish blood, cleaned actions and reloaded bolters as they prepared to enter combat anew within mere moments. Adrenaline still pumping but the more animalistic tendencies of their bloodrage subsiding, if but for a moment, the Flesh Tearers crested an ash mound to look upon the outskirts of Gaius Point.

Before the Ork held township sat an expansive Ork camp easily larger than the settlement itself, teeming with greenskin activity. Alerted to the attack of the Flesh Tearers, warbands mustered for battle, eager to get to grips with this new foe, unaware it seemed of the fate that had befallen their comrades in the reinforcement horde.

As the first warbands of Orks made a mad dash for the Flesh Tearers position, Altan watched as Seth readied _Blood Reaver_ and then charge at the foe, gunning the chainsword's motor in overdrive as his feet crunched down on the black ash.

Now willing to be outdone, even by his Chapter Master, Altan brandished his claws, still bloody from the previous battle and charged after Seth, followed by the rest of the Flesh Tearers, who let loose a roar that could have shook mountains and shattered continents.

'FOR THE EMPEROR AND THE LORD SANGUINIUS!' the Flesh Tearers shouted as one before plunging into the foe, completely lost to the bloodlust of the curse.


	3. Chapter 3

Carmina fired her Godwyn-Deaz pattern bolter into the onrushing horde of greenskins and rejoiced as several fell to her blessed shells. Bathed in holy water and inscribed with Litanies of Hate within the most holy armouries of the Convent Sanctorum on Terra, each was a small piece of the Emperor's divine hatred made manifest.

How she missed the blessed homeworld of Man. It had been many years since Carmina had last walked upon Terra's hallowed surface, many years since she had looked upon the awesome majesty of the Imperial Palace, and basked in the thought of being upon the same world as the divine God-Emperor she revered so zealously. She could not help but think of the differences between Holy Terra and blighted Armageddon, even as she fought for her very life.

Terra was a place where one could feel pure and clean of both soul and body. The song of a thousand choirs, in mimic of the Astropathic choir who helped the Emperor guide the light of the Astronomican, could be heard from everywhere on the planet. From the highest hive-spire to the lowest depths of the undercities, one could hear the music of Terra permeate their soul and lighten it. Carmina's first memories and perhaps most treasured memories were as an orphaned girl, looking upon Terra from orbit for the first time, beholding the power and majesty of the Emperor's throne world.

In comparison Armageddon was a pile of waste and refuse, that seemed to crush the soul with an inescapable melancholy. Carmina had never seen such a polluted world in all of her seventy years, even the massive factory-worlds of the Mechanicus Techpriests not so ruined by industry. The Canoness was amazed that human life could survive on this world, especially here in the Fire Wastes which were little more than deserts of ash.

But Hatraft and his militia seemed able to live off the land and when Carmina and her sisters had arrived to reinforce them they had been bloody and dirty but far from dishevelled and malnourished as she had expected.

She could not wait however to be away from Armageddon, even if her next destination was not Holy Terra she would be glad to see the back of this depressive planet.

To her side Canoness Valois let loose and great gout of flame from her consecrated heavy flamer. Upon touching the air the thrice-blessed promethium fuel ignited and burned down a dozen Ork boyz who fell to the ground writhing and squealing, the reek of cooking flesh and fat intermingling with the burned fuel in an awful stink that made Carmina cough.

Nearby, not far to Carmina's left an artillery shell landed and sent a great pillar of ash, dirt and blood up in the air. Moments later she received a report that Sister Pernea and her squad were gone, blasted apart by the shell.

She cursed and mourned their loss. Each one of her Battle-Sisters meant a great deal to her, united as they were in their service to the Emperor. She felt each loss dearly and she cursed Gabriel Seth's name several times. He had asked them to commit to this assault, advancing on the Ork lines near Gaius Point and bunkering down, right on the Orks' front doorstep.

The losses her Commanderies of Sisters had suffered, coupled with those of the Fire Waste Militia were mounting steadily. They simply could not stand toe to toe with the Ork horde. Faith and fire would only get them so far. Within Gaius Point itself, the muzzle flashes of great guns could be seen, even through the pollutant fog. Carmina knew a great volley of shells screamed towards the Imperial lines and she made a prayer that the shells would miss their intended targets, perhaps even fall short amongst the Orks.

Her prayer was not answered.

The whine of high calibre shells filled the air and unable to take cover the Imperials', Sisters and Militia both could do nothing but go to ground and wait for them to land. The pious made their own payers but it ultimately was all for naught as the first shells landed amongst the defenders.

High explosive shells tore apart the Imperial lines, killing dozens and wounding many more. Whole militia units disappeared in great blasts of flame and shrapnel, their flak jackets little protection against the level of ordnance landing amongst them. Even the battle-sisters, clad in their powered plate took horrendous losses, Carmina coming off relatively lightly with only a deep gash in her forehead from a flying piece of debris and being knocked from her feet.

The Orks, emboldened and cackling with murderous joy charged the Imperial positions again. Carmina raised her bolter and slew two greenskins with a quick burst before they closed. Drawing her power sword and scrambling to her feet, she gutted the first incoming Ork, tearing its abdomen clean open before plunging her sword into its skull. As more came on she found herself facing many foes at once, her blade flashing to and fro swiftly.

Lopping off a cleaver wielding hand her next stroke all but bisected the Ork's head before she brought her blade in to parry a choppa that came dangerously close to her neck. Lashing out she struck the Ork down with a clean-counter but then was immediately back on the defensive as three more Orks came at her.

Carmina was a graceful warrior, unlike the savages of the Flesh Tearers who were very much brutal predatory in aspect. Where they would crush an enemy with relentless attacks, the Canoness instead struck lightly but accurately and in the right place. Her sword was a long and slender weapon to reflect her style of combat.

Putting out one Ork's eyes she swiftly sidestepped to avoid a descending choppa and then rammed the length of her blade into the exposed side of the greenskin's abdomen, striking the heart. It was not an outright lethal blow to the Ork but it was mortal and as she withdrew her sword the Ork collapsed in its death throes, making a pitiful sound indeed from its blood filled throat. Satisfied it was no longer a threat Carmina raised her bolter and blasted another two Orks clean in the face, their skulls exploding most spectacularly.

Still more came on, eager to take Carmina's head as a trophy and the Canoness Superior knew as she cut down several more Orks that eventually they would have it if she didn't soon get support. Her battle-sisters were nowhere to be seen, most killed in the artillery barrage. Even Sister Valois seemed to have met her end, her flamer no longer roaring forth fiery retribution.

The loss of her equerry and sister-in-arms was a source of great sorrow for the Canoness and with a snarled prayer on her lips she swore to avenge each of her sisters who had fallen in battle. Slicing and cutting with a cold fury, the battle-sister ran an Ork through with her sword and failed to notice it's comrade who brought it's mighty axe crashing down on her left pauldron.

Crude steel driven by brute strength met hardened ceramite, the Ork weapon's blunted edge failing to penetrate the pauldron much to Carmina's relief though the shock of the strike jarred the bones in her shoulder as well as dent the plate significantly. Gasping in pain, Carmina brought up her bolter and shot the Ork in the stomach, the mass-reactive shells leaving a fist sized hole in the Ork.

It still wasn't dead however, raising its axe for another attempt at Carmina's head. Rolling away before it could land, the sister hissed at the pain in her shoulder, her word arm l but numb for the moment, her sword hanging loosely in her grip. Shooting her attacker dead, she turned to fire at more, charging at Carmina like bloodhounds with a scent, frothing at the mouth.

She knew her magazine was all but empty and without her other arm which still hung limply at her side, albeit regaining some mobility, she could not reload. Against a whole mob she could count her remaining life in seconds but Carmina would not run, she had sworn to the Emperor she would stand and fight. She just hoped that that savage bastard Seth and his barbaric warriors made the deaths of her, her battle-sisters and the militia count.

Resigned to her fate, Carmina fired her remaining bolts one at a time, aiming each for an Ork's cranium. She downed four before the hammer clicked on an empty chamber. With a sigh the Canoness closed her eyes and prepared to join her Emperor at His side. Her life had been battle after battle and it would be nice to at last rest.

Her death never came as the roar of bolters erupted all around her.

'Protect the Canoness Superior!' roared the voice of Sister Valois and as Carmina opened her eyes she saw the mob of Orks who had before been so close now lying upon the ash covered ground in bloody heaps while more were subsequently being gunned down by a squad of battle-sisters.

It was efficient work, almost like an execution detail and when the Ork assault was at last repulsed they swiftly reloaded their guns in readiness for the next.

'Canoness Superior, are you harmed?' asked Valois, though looking at the Commander, Carmina did not need to ask the same question.

Valois' once pristine armour was a ruin, shattered plates of ceramite hung loosely, ruined beyond repair and covered in blood. Valois' helmet was gone too, revealing her bloodied face, her once blonde mane burned and matted with crimson. It was surprising the Commander still stood at all; such was the gravity of her wounds but Carmina was just glad to see her alive.

'Nothing I cannot overcome, sister. How grievous are your wounds?' said Carmina, the feeling finally beginning to come back into her arm.

Valois seemed to waver on her feet for a moment, prompting Carmina to place a hand on the battle-sister's shoulder to straighten her.

'I can still fight, Canoness. My faith sustains me.' Indeed her faith may have been the only thing that kept her standing, but it would last only so long before her body gave out. Carmina was no medicae but she could tell that Valois wounds could not be just walked off.

If the situation had not been so desperate and every battle-sister needed on the line she would have ordered Valois to find a medicae, but with the Orks pressing in and their artillery barrages continuing unabated it was only right that Valois got a chance to die in battle, rather than being cut down while receiving medical attention.

'All Commanderies report in.' Carmina voxed and it was to her grave disappointment that only two of her five subordinate Canonesses, Valois excluded reported in.

Of Canoness Lognea and Alysse there was nothing, their sections of the line bombarded the hardest in the barrage and assaulted savagely in the ensuing advance. In places the fighting still occurred; the cries of battle-sister and Ork and the sound of gunfire carried on the wind.

As she listened to battle reports she was aware of activity on the militia command frequency, switching her vox, Carmina heard the voice of Gregor Hatraft barely above the hiss of static.

'-sses. Repeat Canoness Carmina, if you can hear me, the militia are taking heavy losses. God-Emperor the Orks are relentless. We need reinforcement or we will have no choice but to fall back.' Gregor Hatraft was largely unflappable, but in his voice Carmina detected a hint of desperation, all to be expected by a man watching his friends and comrades blown to bits or torn into bloody ribbons.

'Carmina to Hatraft. We have no reinforcements available; our positions are just as beleaguered. Stand fast commandant and place your faith in the Emperor and his Angels of Death. The Flesh Tearers will not fail.'

She hoped they did not, but as the next barrage screamed towards the Imperial lines and another horde of Orks began to charge from Gaius Point, Carmina knew it was all but academic.

They wouldn't be alive to see either outcome to the battle.

Raising her boltgun the Canoness reloaded and let her weapon roar, her wrath carried on every bolt.


End file.
